


let go

by shairiru



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Immortality, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-18 17:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shairiru/pseuds/shairiru
Summary: Immortality could be tedious if spent in solitude. Fortunately for Seijuurou, he has never been truly alone.





	let go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuzo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuzo/gifts).



> This fic serves two purposes:  
> 1) as a gift; (advanced) happy birthday to my dearest darling child, Lunch. I love you so much, realizing it was your birthday soon gave me inspiration to actually finish a fic!; 
> 
> 2) as an AkaMido Day fic; HAPPY 4/6 & 4/7 AKAMIDO DAY. I would write two fics for each day but alas, grad school + research assistant work is...making me very busy ;A; I hope this painful ship is still alive in our hearts <3

An immortal's life is bound to be filled with solitude. For those without an ambition or a goal, not dying is a curse. Seijuurou, on his part, even without an ambition or a goal deems himself a fortunate exception. That is because in over a millennia of living, he has never been truly alone.

 

His company comes in the form of a soul that which has departed but cannot cross over.

 

His fated from the life before his immortality, the only reason Seijuurou is able to live this long is he.

 

“Shintarou.”

  


“A person has three lives.”

 

Seijuurou stares at the falling snow outside. The country has never seen such strong winter in decades. Shintarou tends to the coal that is between the two of them, chasing away the cold.

 

“That’s only a lore,” Shintarou blows at the coal pit, starting up a small flame. Satisfied, he keeps his hands inside his sleeves, wrapping his arms around him.  

 

“This is my third life.”

 

Shintarou looks at Seijuurou, then. The latter is still looking outside, his lips set in a thin line of contemplation.

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because I remember each one of my previous lives.”

  


“You’ve come home early,” Shintarou’s spirit, donned with flowing funeral robes from the era in which he died, barely moves from the piano bench. He only spares Seijuurou a glance before he returns his attention to the piano keys, playing an imagined piece. The afternoon sun passes through him as if he is air.

 

“I was worried about you,” he walks towards the piano and sits beside Shintarou, “What are you playing?”

 

“One of Clint Mansell’s.”

 

“Oh. This one?”

 

Seijuurou spends no second in hesitating. The notes fly from his fingers with practiced ease. Shintarou watches him quietly until the last chord is played.

 

“Yes, that’s it,” a sad sigh escapes Shintarou’s lips, “A favorite.”

 

“Mine as well.”

 

“I wish I could play the piano.”

 

“Your koto playing is impeccable, don’t worry. I still have yet to see anyone who can do it better than you,” Seijuurou reaches for Shintarou’s hand. It passes through, as expected. Centuries of being together has gotten him used to it. “You didn’t come with me today.”

 

“Worried? What could happen to a spirit like me?” Shintarou smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is there any place I can be besides with you?”

 

Seijuurou doesn’t miss the shift in his voice. “If there is, would you leave?”

 

The autumn wind blows through the window, making the curtains rise and bringing a piece of golden leaf into the room. The leaf, upon the absence of the sudden gust of wind, falls ever so slowly until it lands on the top of the grand piano.

 

“Silly question.”

 

He has heard it from the silence that preceded Shintarou’s words. “But you will.”

  
  


“Have we met before?” Shintarou asks, “In the previous lives that you had. Were we together?”

 

“Never.” The fire crackles, small sparks shooting up in the air. “This must be your first life.”

 

“How are you so certain?”

 

“I see it. When I look at the eyes of a person, no matter his state, I gain the knowledge of where he is in his cycle of life.”

 

“But we’re fated, you and I. Even if this is just my first life like you say, I feel it.”

 

Seijuurou smiles. “That is a fact.”

 

“What happens then when both of us die? I know that I would get reincarnated, but you?”

 

The fire crackles over the hanging question.

 

“You worry too much of the things that shouldn’t still be thought about.”

 

Their eyes meet. Seijuurou sees the flame of life within the green hues of Shintarou’s eyes. A person in their first life would have a bright, blazing flame; a person in their last a mere wick of a candle flame. He doesn’t need to look at his own eyes to know that his flame is about to go out.

 

“I can’t imagine my next life without you in it.”

  


“I went to my sister while you were outside.”

 

“You’ve found her?” Seijuurou stares at him in surprise. He isn’t aware of Shintarou’s activities outside the walls of their apartment.

 

“For quite some time now,” Shintarou admits, “She’s old already, and this reincarnation is her last. Our parents have both left their last lives, too. It won’t be too long before she joins—”

 

Seijuurou stands up. “We’re not having this conversation.”

 

“Seijuurou—”

 

“I can’t do what you want me to do!” he grits his teeth, fists clenched tightly against his sides, “Do not talk to me about this again.”

  


“What if there’s a way for us to be together?”

 

“In the next life?”

 

“Forever.”

 

Shintarou’s eyes widen. Seijuurou doesn’t seem to be bluffing, and never has he lied to him either.  He would never let a word come out of his mouth that he has no absolute certainty of.

 

“That’s a question you no longer have to ask of me.”

  


For centuries, Seijuurou’s nightmares have been filled with one scene: his body standing in the midst of unfamiliar faces. A path opens up, and there would be Shintarou kneeling on the ground. Begging.

 

_Let me go._

 

He wakes up with a jolt; panting, sweating hard. No matter how many times he sees it, he never gets used to that nightmare. What’s more frightening is that the nightmare is almost becoming a reality.

 

A familiar presence makes him turn. He sees Shintarou sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him with worried eyes.

 

“Is it that dream again?”

 

Seijuurou nods. He has never told Shintarou the contents of his nightmare. And yet —

 

“I’m sorry,” Seijuurou suddenly says, “About what I said. I was too harsh.” He has to apologize for so much more.

 

Shintarou shakes his head. “I understand.”

 

“It’s just that…if you go now, there might not be a second reincarnation for you. Not after…not after what happened.”

  


He can’t understand where it went wrong.

 

He is sure he followed the ritual to the most minuscule detail. The ingredients were impeccable and the incantations flawless.

 

Why is it then that he’s the only one breathing?

 

Why is it that Shintarou’s lifeless body lies on his lap?

  


“Your nightmares, you’ve never told me about them.”

 

And yet, in the way Shintarou looks at him, he is certain that he already knows. For what have been the any years that they’ve been together if they wouldn’t know the deepest recesses of each other’s hearts?

 

Seijuurou smiles instead. “I knew the moment where you’d ask me to let you go would always come.”

 

Shintarou’s ghostly figure seems more ethereal than usual. For the longest time, Seijuurou has tried to hold on to his spirit.

 

“I’ve always wondered if you held anger in your heart because of what I did to you,” he says in a quiet voice, “Because of the promise I’ve failed to realize.”

 

“All these years and you’ve been blaming yourself?” Shintarou lets out a frustrated sigh, “That decision wasn’t on you alone. I knew the risks, and I did it anyway.”

 

“In the first place, if I haven’t told you about it, you would have lived two much more fulfilling lives.”

 

“Are you suggesting all the centuries I’ve spent with you weren’t fulfilling?” He smiles. “It’s because I’ve spent a worthwhile time with you that I know I can leave this world without any regrets.”

 

“Shintarou…”

 

“Not everyone gets a chance to live with the one they love for as long as I have with you.”

 

“I can’t die. If I let you go, I can’t ever see you again.”

 

Shintarou throws him a coy smile.

 

“You were able to find the answer to immortality. I’m sure that you can also find the answer to undo it. You could have long ago, if I wasn’t here holding us back.”

 

That isn’t a lie. Seijuurou has been content with his immortality as long as Shintarou is with him. He has failed to consider if Shintarou has been content being a roaming spirit all these years. It is high time for him to look how to undo this curse of immortality.

 

“I’ve been holding you back for too long, haven’t I?” He reaches for Shintarou’s hand. It took him a few years to get used to not feeling anything. He wonders how long it will take him to get used to not seeing him at all. “Then, shall we go to your grave?”

  


_I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve killed him. I’ve —_

 

“Seijuurou?”

 

He hears Shintarou’s voice. It must be his hallucination. Shintarou is dead. He has killed him due to his selfishness. He’s never coming back.

 

“Seijuurou! What happened? Why am I—“

 

Seijuurou removes himself from the crook of Shintarou’s neck, his tears blurring the world around him. Yet, he sees the image of a _Shintarou_ looking down on him.

 

He blinks.

 

The body of Shintarou remains lying on the ground. The spirit of Shintarou, as it seems, stands before him with a face of mixed horror and confusion.

  


Shintarou’s remains are buried on top of a mountain. The travel takes them half a day. It is the most excruciating twelve hours Seijuurou has experienced in his life. He has never set foot on the makeshift grave he made since the day he laid Shintarou’s body underneath the soft spring soil of a thousand years ago. The stone markers are now buried underneath leaf litter and twigs. It takes some time before Seijuurou is able to clean up everything.

 

“I’m sorry for neglecting your grave,” he tells Shintarou who has watched him quietly the whole time he worked.

 

“I understand. If you have paid respects to my grave before, then I would have crossed a long time ago.”

 

“I’m killing you again,” his hands tighten around the offerings that he brought. How ironic that an offering would take away the one person he solely needed.

 

“For this second death, I am grateful to you.”

  


“I’m dead,” Shintarou says with a finality. Sadness replaces the expression on his face. Seijuurou waits for his outburst. He waits for Shintarou to curse him for he deserved his wrath, but never has anger crossed his face upon the realization of what has happened.

 

“You won’t be alone then? As an immortal?” His words are sincere and every syllable stabs at Seijuurou with guilt. “I will be with you.”

 

And in that, Seijuurou realized just how much Shintarou has loved him.

  


Never in a millennia of being a ghost has Shintarou ever shown nor held anger.

 

It is only fitting that Seijuurou returns the love Shintarou has given him — a selfless one.

 

Seijuurou arranges the food before the grave, lights the incense, kneels. He looks up at Shintarou for one last time, smiling.

 

“Thank you, Shintarou.” The last time he can call out his name and he will hear his voice responding.

 

“I’ll be waiting in the afterlife,” Shintarou smiles the last smile he will be seeing for quite a while, “Don't make me wait too long, will you?”

 

Seijuurou closes his eyes and mutters a silent prayer. He commits the scenery in his mind: how the rising sun paints the sky in a soft shade of lavender and orange; how the cold wind brushes at his face as if a lover’s last kiss; and how Shintarou, in his ceremonial white robes, stands gracefully before him, as beautiful as the first spring day of their meeting.

 

After over a millennia, Seijuurou allows himself to be alone. He finally lets go.

**Author's Note:**

> The Clint Mansell piece Seijuurou played for Shintarou is [Together We Will Live Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swAicg0GjNg).
> 
> __
> 
>  
> 
> A short background as to how I came to write this: a Twitter friend told me there already exists an immortal akashi/ghost midorima fic. But I didn't know of any! I panicked, I asked everyone I knew in the ship fandom if they know of a fic with that trope and all of them said no. Unable to feel at peace, I decided to bring it into existence. Anyway, if you do know a midoaka/akamido fic with that trope, please tell me <3


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